


Close

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-05
Updated: 2003-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third in the Away series. Implied non-consensual. Bruce gets close to Lex. Lionel finds a way to make feel his presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close

## Close

by Lux

[]()

* * *

Third in the Away series, follows 'Approach.' 

Feedback: Yes, please, cuddle me. It's what I need to go on with this heartbreaking series. 

Many thanks to the incomparable Moss and Jen for beta reading. You did a great job! Any lingering mistakes are mine and mine alone. 

* * *

So there he was, in that huge, dark house, with an impassive butler and a strange, gloomy boy. 

Lex loved it. Unlike his father, Bruce and Alfred knew the meaning of the word "privacy." They left him alone. He could do whatever he wanted. He spent hours in the library, reading the books collected by Bruce's parents. He swam in the pool. He played video games. He wandered about Gotham's streets, visiting the museums and buying a lot of expensive, useless things, just for the pleasure of draining the credit card Lionel had placed at his disposal. 

As expected, his father had been delighted with the news of his friendship with the Wayne boy, and very willingly had granted him his permission to stay with Bruce during the Christmas holidays. 

"Good boy," he had congratulated Lex. "Work on him. He never completely got over his parents' death. I'm sure he needs someone to rely on. Someone who points him in the right direction. LuthorCorp's direction." He had flashed a wolfish smile, the one Lex found more chilling than the loud laugh of a villain in an old horror movie. 

Lex hadn't made much effort to deepen his relationship with Bruce, at school or in Gotham City. He didn't understand the boy. Sometimes, Bruce frightened him, just as he frightened their schoolmates. He had officially lived in the Orient for several years, but nasty rumors were going around that he had been put away due to some mental disorder. Some boys, mainly to scare the youngest kids, said he had murdered his parents. Lex had done some research on the Internet. He hadn't found anything about the mental institution, but his father was probably right. Bruce had never gotten over his parents' death. That was understandable. They had been slain before his eyes when he was a little kid. And the killers had never been arrested. But Lex sensed something beyond anger and sorrow, behind those dark eyes. Something really creepy. 

The bullies hadn't bothered him anymore, even when Lex had put an end to his brilliant career as a pusher. And Carl, the janitor he had bribed to turn a blind eye to his illicit activities, still treated Lex with kid gloves, in spite of the lost income. It wouldn't have made sense if it hadn't been for Bruce. The Wayne boy hadn't talked to him anymore since that time in the library, except to confirm his invitation for Christmas holidays. He hardly ever got close to him. And even then, he behaved as if they were complete strangers, which they were, truth be told. Bruce must have done something, though. Because, somehow, Lex's tormentors knew he now had a protector. 

Sometimes, at the boarding school as in Gotham, Lex caught Bruce watching him stealthily. Sometimes, he woke up in the middle of the night, feeling a presence in his room. In the time it took to open his eyes and blink in the dark, Bruce was already gone. But Lex knew he had been there, observing him, studying him, thinking who knows what, doing who knows what. Sometimes Bruce sent chills along his spine. But Lex felt grateful to him, too. 

Yes, he could have tried to win Bruce's trust. A part of him - he really didn't know why - still wanted to please his father. But he couldn't do it at Bruce's expense. He didn't know what was going on between them. But, whatever it was, he didn't want to screw everything up. Bruce had been kind to him. Lex still didn't know if he was just looking for someone to save or expecting something in return. The sad truth was that Bruce was the closest thing to a friend he had ever had. He didn't have anyone else. 

One night, to his surprise, Bruce joined him in the pool. Lex didn't hear him arrive. Just heard the splash, and turned in time to see him dive into the pool in one fluid movement. Then Bruce emerged, black hair stuck on his forehead like seaweed, matching the elegant black bathing-suit he wore, and swam towards Lex with powerful strokes. He looked so healthy and athletic, his muscles honed by years of training. Lex waited for him, holding on the pool's edge. 

"Lex," Bruce said, dryly, when he was close enough. "How are you getting on?" 

"Fine, thanks." 

"Not bored? I know this place isn't exactly an amusement park. You must be used to a completely different atmosphere." 

Lex smiled a cool smirk, thinking of the atmosphere of what he knew as home. 

"Oh, not that diff..." He trailed off when Bruce reached out to touch his lips. 

"I never noticed this scar before," Bruce informed him. "How did you get it?" he asked, sounding almost accusatory. 

"I... I don't remember," he lied. "I was a little kid." 

Bruce's thumb run along his scarred upper lip. 

"It was him?" he inquired, in a low voice. 

"No," Lex lied again. He didn't know why. It just seemed safer. 

"You can tell me." 

His glare was icy. For a second, Lex thought he had caught something vaguely insane there. 

"It was an accident," Lex assured him. His life's slogan. It was an accident. It has been an accident. It will be an accident. It's going to be an accident. 

Bruce's fingers moved casually to Lex's cheek and down on his neck. Lex remained still, not knowing what to do. The touch of that hand, so strong and kind, didn't displease him. Like that time in the library. But when Bruce leaned towards him, Lex froze, instinctively, breath growing short. 

Bruce must have felt the tension stiffen his muscles, because he backed off just a fraction, with a fluid, casual-seeming movement. 

"Your skin looks sensitive," he commented, deadpan, as if he had touched him just to confirm his first impression. "You shouldn't stay in the water so long." 

"Yeah. I know. I was finishing, when you got in." 

Bruce nodded. 

Lex reached the ladder. 

"I just came to tell you that I'm giving a party, on Christmas Eve," Bruce said. "It's one of my boring social duties. But I imagine you may enjoy it." 

"I don't think so," Lex contradicted him, getting out of the pool. 

He had hoped to skip the ritual, this year. The corporate function disguised as a Christmas party, all formal greetings, handshakes, and insincere smiles. 

Bruce frowned slightly, as if surprised, but recovered quickly. 

"I should have a suit of your size, if you need it," he proposed. 

"No, thanks, I've got one." 

Lex put his bathrobe on, knowing Bruce's piercing eyes were following every move. He left the pool without looking back. 

* * *

The party was boring like those his father gave, but the positive aspect was that his father wasn't there. So Lex didn't feel forced to hide his mood. Thus for the last forty minutes, sprawled out in an armchair with a punch cup in his hand, he had enjoyed watching Bruce doing so: chatting, nodding, even smiling for the cameras. _That_ was creepy. Then he saw her, and immediately composed himself. She was red-haired and wore a green gown that stood out against her pale skin. Her features were sweet and beautiful. There was another girl with her, a brunette with cat-like eyes. She looked like Meg Tilly in that movie, _Tex_. She was really pretty, in spite of her simpler dress, but the redhead had completely caught Lex's attention. 

"Something interesting in sight?" Bruce asked, startling him. 

Lex turned his head up. 

"I'd really appreciate it if you stopped sneaking up on me like that." 

A small smile curved the side of Bruce's mouth. 

"Do you know them?" Lex asked, nodding towards the girls. 

"According to my notes, the redhead is a business associate's daughter. I've probably met her at other social functions. " 

He held a palmtop computer so that Lex could see the display, which showed a photo and a brief profile. 

"She's French. Her name's Fabienne Delaunay. The other one must be a friend of hers." 

"The other one doesn't interest me." 

"I see." 

Bruce sounded vaguely amused. He slid the palmtop in his pocket. 

"Come on, I'll introduce her to you." 

Lex stood up and followed him, smoothing his jacket and pants. The good thing about being bald was that his hair couldn't be disheveled. 

"Fabienne," Bruce greeted, plastering on a grin. "I'm glad you're here. I'm Bruce Wayne, your father's associate." 

"Yes, I remember you perfectly well," she said, blushing a little. "How are you?" 

"Fine, thank you. I want you to meet my schoolmate, Lex Luthor. Lex, these are Fabienne and..." 

"This is Selina. She teaches me English." 

"Nice to meet you," Lex said, shaking both hands. "Je n'en comprends pas la raison," he told Fabienne. "You don't need lessons. It seems to me your English is perfect." 

Fabienne giggled. "My pronunciation is horrid." 

"Je la trouve charmante," corrected Lex. 

"Thank you." 

"How about your father?" Bruce chimed in. 

"He must be somewhere about." 

"Then, I'll go to look for him. Selina, would you like to come with me? We could get a cup of punch." 

They went away, and Lex realized Fabienne looked a bit disappointed. He cleared his throat. 

"So, you already knew Bruce?" 

The girl brightened up again. "Yes, I met him six months ago at his charity ball." 

"How often do you come to the States?" 

"Oh, once or twice a year, during my holidays, if my father can take me with him." 

"How do you find Gotham City?" 

Fabienne shrugged. "Big. Dark. I prefer New York. More lively." 

The girl had already started looking around impatiently. Lex realized he didn't have much time to impress her. 

"I love New York. I... we have a penthouse there." 

"Cool," she said, half-heartedly. "My father's got an apartment on Park Avenue." 

"Ah." Fail. Damn. C'mon, Lex, try something else. Quickly. "Then, perhaps you're going to the Inca exhibit? It's opening on Sunday." 

She stared at him as if he were a strange object she had just bought by mistake at a sale. _You hopeless idiot. Why couldn't you simply have talked about the latest Leonardo DiCaprio movie_? 

"I heard it should be interesting," Lex explained, weakly. 

The girl faked a smile. 

Lex began feeling desperate. "Do you study in France?" 

"No, Switzerland." 

"Oh, I studied there for a year. In a boarding school near Bern." 

"I, in Geneva." 

Now Fabienne had caught her friend's eye, across the room, and was openly motioning Selina to come back. 

Lex made his last attempt. "Can you give me your e-mail?" He smiled his best charming smile. "I'm always curious to know what's going on in Switzerland." 

She gave him another fake smile. "Have you got a piece of paper?" 

"Sure." 

He gave it to her, along with a ballpoint pen. She scribbled her e-mail address and returned them to him. She seemed relieved, when she saw her friend arriving. 

"Selina, at last! Will you accompany me to the toilet? Will you excuse me, Alex?" 

"Lex," he corrected. "Don't worry." 

He remained alone, with her e-mail address in his hands. She hadn't asked for his, and this wasn't encouraging. Nothing in her behavior had been encouraging, but perhaps it was just a pose. Girls sometimes acted like that, didn't they? Or she had simply hated him at first sight. 

"So?" Bruce asked, startling him once again. 

Lex was starting to hate _him_. 

"So what?" 

"How was the approach?" 

"I think she went to the bathroom to throw up." 

Bruce chuckled briefly. "Persistence. This is the secret. If you really like her, you shouldn't give up too early." 

"She gave me her e-mail address," Lex admitted. "Though she didn't seem that thrilled." 

"It could be a ruse. And, in any case, at least it's something. I'm sure you know what to do with it. You can overwhelm her by dint of words. I hear you're good at it." 

Lex smiled, grateful for what seemed a genuine interest in his well-being. "Yeah, I can win her by exhaustion." 

"Go for it." 

"What about Selina?" 

"Pretty. Absolutely. But lately I'm in no mood for flirting. I've got other things on my mind." 

Lex stared at him, but Bruce's face was deadpan. _A grand for your thoughts_. 

"Oh, sorry. The mayor is just arrived. I've gotta go to receive him. Boring stuff.'" 

"I'm with you." 

Bruce put on his formal grin and went to meet the mayor. 

Lex took a canap from a passing waiter's tray and looked for the alcoholic drinks buffet. He helped himself to a glass of champagne, hoping nobody raised any objection. In the USA they were so strict. When he went to Europe, he regularly drank beer, whisky, and wine. He had tried uzo and vodka, too. He had gotten drunk half a dozen times, and no one had never said anything. Once he had ended up under a table, and the bartender had been so nice as to call a taxi for him. They really knew how to satisfy the customer over there. Truth be told, even at school, thanks to Carl, he didn't have to do without alcohol, although the janitor charged the students for his beer of inferior quality as if it were vintage Rhine wine. 

He sipped at his drink, casting a glance at the door of the ladies' room. Nobody in sight. He headed for his favorite armchair and sank into it. Perhaps he should leave Fabienne alone, although he wouldn't have many more occasions to see her face to face. If she had just been trying to make an impression, she would have looked for him. Otherwise, he always had her e-mail address and, as Bruce had suggested, he could convince her he was worth a try by his letters. 

He thought about the many poems he knew, and which of them would suit her best. He could even write something himself. Some years before he had written a lot of poems and reflections on his mom. Once, he had brought himself to give one of them to his English teacher, as a homework. He had given him full marks, reducing them when Lex had stubbornly refused to read his poem before his classmates. In any case, he knew he was good at writing. Why shouldn't Fabienne appreciate this? 

Two familiar voices suddenly drew his attention. They came from behind the armchair's back. 

"Oh, tu est d'une vacherie inouie! How could you go away with mon chouchou?" 

"I didn't know he was your chouchou." 

Lex sank deeper into the cushions of the armchair, straining his ears. 

"How couldn't he be? Don't tell me you don't like him. Il me fait craquer. He's handsome, strong, charmant and mysterious and so... Comment dit-on en anglais?" 

"Yummy?" 

"Yeah! What did you do? What did he say?" 

"Nothing. Nothing important. I don't think he likes me. He seemed to be somewhere else." 

"Thank goodness. So I may have a chance." 

"What about Lex Luthor? He looked interested." 

"Oh, please! How could you leave me alone with that... freak?" 

"He's the Luthor heir. His father is very rich." 

"I know who he is. I've heard of him. But he's strange." 

"He seems cute to me." 

"Cute! Are you blind? Il est chauve! And they say he's like this... everywhere. I mean... he's said to be completely... How do you say? Hairless. Everywhere! It's creepy, don't you think? He's like... like a worm, like... like one of those disgusting smooth rats that live underground." 

Selina sounded uncomfortable as she lamely replied: "It isn't his fault." 

"Sure it isn't. But he's a nerd, too. This is definitely his fault. Look, I'm sixteen. I'm certainly not going to date a boy out of pity, or just because he's rich. By the way. Where is he? I'm afraid he's the insistent type. Oh, quel guigne! Now I'll have to spend the night trying to avoid him. And maybe he'll cling all night to Bruce! Do you see Bruce somewhere? Come, let's go to the balcony. He might be there." 

Lex heard their voices and footsteps fade away. He was paralyzed. He thought he had gotten used to people judging him on the basis of his looks or his name, but this had hurt him. Badly. He swallowed hard, as he pulled the piece of paper with Fabienne's address out of his pocket and crumpled it. He got up and stumbled towards the hallway. 

He had just left the room, when he felt a firm hand take a hold of his right wrist. 

"Lex, wait!" 

He jerked around. Bruce had materialized behind him as if he had just stepped out of a fucking transporter beam. 

"Don't get upset. Let her alone. She's an idiot," he asserted, concern filling his face. 

Lex couldn't believe his ears. Bruce had listened in on the girls' conversation. Where had he been? Hidden behind a column? Or he'd got the gift of invisibility? Lex felt anger welling in him. 

"What are you doing?" he snapped, breaking free of Bruce's grip. "Spying on me?" 

Bruce stiffened. 

"Yeah, do you think I'm not aware of it, Spooky?" Lex went on cruelly. "At school they call you Spooky behind your back. Did you know that? Well, I'm not scared of you. I'll say it to your face. If you want to fuck me, say it or do it, like a normal person would. Stop acting like a goddamn psychotic!" 

Bruce looked stunned. 

Lex turned his back on him and dashed up the stairs to his room. He pulled the door closed behind him and, leaning against it, let himself slide to the floor. A slight tremor ran through his body. 

"Well done, Lex. Now he'll kick you out of here. Right into your father's fatherly arms." 

A faint, sarcastic laugh escaped his lips. 

It didn't matter. No, it didn't matter at all. He could make it, exactly how he always had before that boy entered his life. He didn't need anyone. Luthors didn't need anyone. 

Lex crawled towards the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of sedatives out of the drawer. His prescription for insomnia and anxiety. He took two pills. While he was putting the bottle away, he saw his leather wallet in the drawer. Lex pulled it out. Sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, he opened it. Looked at the picture under the transparent cover. Lillian Luthor. Young and beautiful. Red hair, blue eyes, milky, delicate skin. Thin, just slightly more than Fabienne. He, two years old, cradled between her caring, soft arms. Smiling, looking trustingly into her sweet face. He had had reasons to smile, then. He didn't know what was awaiting him. All seemed right and perfect. His mother happy and alive. His father proudly taking a photo of them. Yes, Lex was sure Lionel himself had taken it. It wasn't studied and perfect enough to be the work of a professional photographer. This made it all the more precious to him. 

He lifted the transparent pocket. Another photo. The three of them together, all dressed in white, on the deck of their yacht. He remembered that cruise perfectly, although he was just five. The Mediterranean sea and harbors, the sun, the excursions. His parents slumbering in an embrace on a deck-chair. Their jokes. Their laughter. How long had it been since he last heard his father laugh? A genuine, joyful laughter, that is, not a maniacal one. 

Holding the wallet in his hand, still open, he curled up on the floor. The sounds of the party filtered from downstairs. He stared again at the photo. A feminine voice crept into his mind, pushing out everything else. It could be his mother's. Sometimes he didn't remember it. But he remembered the rhymes. She knew dozens of them and sang them to Lex to amuse or quiet him. "Tell it again," he always begged, if he hadn't fallen asleep, yet. And she repeated them over and over again. 

He let go of the wallet and wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them closer to his chest. 

_A wise old owl lived in an oak_ ;  
 _the more he saw the less he spoke_ ;  
 _the less he spoke the more he heard_.  
 _Why can't we all be like that wise old bird_? 

* * *

Christmas morning found him still curled on the cold floor. He blinked at the sunlight flooding into the room and propped himself up, stiff and sore. He sneezed. Memories of the previous evening washed suddenly over him. A moan escaped his mouth. He ran his hands over his bare scalp. _Oh, shit_. He had done it. He just couldn't help it, could he? He had fucked everything up, whatever that everything was. Bruce had tried to give him a hand, and he had promptly bit it. Well, it wasn't as if the boy hadn't asked for it. He was a stalker. He might be a serial killer, as far as he knew. And Lex had spoken his mind to him. Shrewd move. Now, the smartest thing he could do was to pack and take to his heels, without waiting for his host to chase him away... or kill him, tear him to pieces and store him in jars into the freezer. 

He stood up and massaged his aching neck. He pulled out his travelling bag from behind the bed and reached for the drawers. He started to pack, stopping when he saw the Christmas present he had bought for Bruce. He took the parcel and placed it on his untouched bed. He looked at it for a moment, uneasy. What if nobody entered the guestroom before the end of the day? No, he would leave it on the shelf in the hall. After all, in spite of his manias, Bruce Wayne had given him shelter when no one else seemed to care for him. The least he could do was to behave as his mother had taught him. No one could ever say that Lex Luthor didn't know what good manners were. 

He finished packing and went downstairs, heading for the door. Alfred's even voice stopped him in his tracks, startling him. He must have learned it from his master. Or vice versa. 

"Mr. Luthor, the breakfast is being served in the living-room." 

"Of course!" Lex blurted out, a bit too quickly. 

He started to follow him. The travel bag bumped lightly into his thigh, reminding him of its presence. Lex mentally thanked the old butler for pretending not to see it. And for not having added "as it is every morning" to his laconic statement. 

He had his habitual breakfast: cappuccino and croissant. 

"When you're finished, your presence is requested in the sitting-room," Alfred informed him. 

_Oh God_. There was just no way to avoid it, was there? He emptied his mug, thinking of a probable story to excuse the previous night's behavior. _I was drunk. I can't sleep, so sometimes I get nervous_. The last one wouldn't even be a lie. He didn't remember the last time his sleep had been peaceful. Unless he took his pills, that is. 

He dug the gift out of his bag and made for the sitting-room. Before entering, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. 

Bruce was waiting for him on the couch near the Christmas tree, wearing black pants and a black turtleneck. He would be perfect on a magazine cover. Something like _Vanity Fair_ or _GQ_. Lex tried in vain to decipher his expression. 

"Look..." Lex began. 

Bruce stood up. 

Lex instinctively drew back. 

"Is it for me?" Bruce asked, nodding towards the parcel in Lex's hand as if nothing at all had happened. 

Lex followed his gaze. "Well... yeah," he muttered, feeling suddenly goofy. 

"I got some presents for you too," Bruce announced, with a small, sincere smile. "I was waiting for you to unwrap them. Usually, I don't do the gift thing. Except for what concerns Alfred and the Wayne Enterprises' business partners, that is. But I think it's the first time I've personally bought a present. I... just thought you would like to observe the tradition." 

Lex thought it was the longest speech he'd ever heard come out of his mouth. He appreciated the effort, but couldn't help a cool, ironic smirk. "I wouldn't have." 

Bruce frowned. 

Lex immediately felt guilty. "My father's secretaries have always had horrible tastes," he explained. "Or rather, they really don't know my tastes. I think this absolves them, at least partly." 

"I hope I did a better job," Bruce said, with a serious expression that made Lex regret his last words. Considering the gift he had gotten for Bruce wasn't personal at all. It was just expensive and available in a limited edition. Exactly the kind of gifts a Luthor would buy, only less conventional than Lionel's. 

"Who goes first?" Bruce asked. 

Lex handed his gift to Bruce, embarrassed. He unwrapped it with quick movements. The jacket was rolled up in a small bundle into its box. Bruce stared at it, eyebrows arched. 

"It can be twisted round," Lex explained. "So it doesn't take much space." 

Bruce unfolded it, eyeing its left forearm. 

"It's a waterproof electronic jacket," Lex said, blushing a little. How had that absurd idea come to him? "It plays music or whatever you want. There's an integrated iPod control system built into that sleeve. See these buttons? They allow you to change songs or turn up the volume with your gloves on. It's engineered for snowboarders, so they can glide to their favorite tunes." 

"I'm not a snowboarder," Bruce informed him, matter-of-factly. 

Lex flushed again. 

"I... I'm sorry," he stuttered. "You're so sporty... I thought... But you can use it when you ski, too," he offered, desperately. 

"It could be a spy gadget," Bruce observed, flatly. 

Lex felt bad. *Give me a shovel: I'm going to bury myself*. 

The ghost of a smile on the older boy's face told him that Bruce was attempting a joke, something Lex hadn't considered him capable of. 

"Don't worry, I love it. It's wonderful," Bruce assured him, as he perused the gift curiously. 

Lex felt relieved. "It's available in a limited edition," he informed him, smugly. And quickly added, as to excuse himself: "Only in blue." 

"I think I'm going to study it." 

Lex's forehead creased. "Study?" 

"I like designing things." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. And sometimes I carry out my engineering projects in my laboratories." 

"Oh. For example?" 

"Small robots. Vehicles. And this home's security system. It can discriminate among 1.200 types of movements." 

Lex chuckled. "A security system? Wouldn't a breakthrough system be more fun?" 

Bruce squinted at him. 

"Come on, give me my gift," Lex sighed, extending his arm. 

Decidedly, Bruce had still a lot to learn, if he wanted to become amusing, or at least nice. 

"Gifts," the other boy corrected. "Here." 

Two packets. One was smaller than the other, and heavier. It definitely looked like a book. Lex unwrapped that first. La Divina Commedia. A nineteenth-century Italian edition. The pages were delicate and yellowish. He glowed. 

"I was afraid you already had it," Bruce said. 

Lex smiled. "I've got an English version." 

"I thought you could appreciate an original one," Bruce explained. "I know you are very good at foreign languages." 

Lex chuckled. "I fear you're overrating me. I must confess that old Florentine is not exactly my forte, although modern Italian derives from it." 

"In any case, there are notes in Italian. Can you understand them?" 

Lex nodded. "Sure. What about you?" 

"Just a bit. Read something," Bruce invited him, sitting on the couch. 

Lex willingly complied, choosing the first lines. " _Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, che la diritta via era smarrita_." 

"What does that mean?" 

"This is apparently simple, very similar to modern Italian. But it's a metaphor. Literally, Dante finds himself in a dark forest, since he has lost his way. It means that, at a certain point, Dante left the path of virtue and lost himself." 

"I like your pronunciation. Perhaps you can read me something more, when we're finished with the gift ceremony." Bruce pointed to the other parcel, a flat box with a golden ribbon. 

Lex took it and opened it. He couldn't help frowning, as he looked at the black Cerruti 1881 sweater. He never wore black shirts or sweaters. That was obviously Bruce's color. What was he trying to do? Mark his territory? Lex felt a twinge of irritation. 

"Thank you," he snapped, ironically. "Just what I need to enhance my pallor and baldness. Never freakish enough to my taste." He regretted his words, and especially their tone, as soon as they escaped his mouth. 

Bruce seemed hurt and embarrassed. 

"I just thought it would look great on you. I like your pallor and baldness. I think you shouldn't be ashamed of them." 

Lex felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. _Lex, why don't you ever curb your tongue, you fucking idiot_? 

"If you don't want it, I can keep it myself," Bruce went on. "No problem." 

Lex opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the doorbell rang. Shortly after, carrying a parcel, Alfred appeared at the door of the sitting-room. 

"A delivery for Mr. Lex Luthor from Mr. Lionel Luthor," he announced. 

Taken aback, Lex stared at it warily. 

"I'm reasonably certain you're meant to take and open it, sir," Alfred informed him. 

Amused by his remark, Lex gave him a tiny smirk. In his house, a servant who dared to be clever wouldn't have lasted long. "Yeah. I think so," he admitted, taking the parcel as suggested. "Where is the card?" 

"No card, sir," Alfred replied, before withdrawing. 

Lex scrutinized the parcel. The packaging was elegant and clearly expensive: shiny wrapping paper and a satin ribbon. His father had remembered him and found the time to give Bruce's address to his secretary to send him his habitual, impersonal present. How tactful. The pathetic thing was that a part of him was really pleased with the gesture. 

"Aren't you going to open it?" Bruce urged him. 

"Sure." 

The box wasn't big enough to contain a suit, nor small enough to contain a watch, a pen, or a pair of cufflinks. He opened it, eager in spite of himself. 

And stood still, an icy sensation running up his spine. He clearly felt the blood drain from his body. He wondered if it could be pouring on Bruce's precious Persian carpet. 

_Unlike the boys in Athens, Spartan kids spent little time learning music and literature. Instead, they were drilled each day in gymnastic and military exercise until their muscles were like iron and their will power like steel. They were taught that retreat in battle or surrender was a disgrace. They learned to endure pain and hardship without complaint. They were allowed to feel the pinch of hunger and encouraged to supplement their fare by pilfering food for themselves. This was not done to cultivate dishonesty, but to develop shrewdness and enterprise. If they were caught, they were whipped for their awkwardness_. 

"Lex?" called Bruce. 

Lex's eyes were wide, fixed on the riding-whip lying in its elegant box lined with blue satin. The handle was tooled. He knew that design. It was the crop his father had used to give him the last lesson. Lex realized his hands were shaking. 

Couldn't be. He couldn't. Couldn't have done this. What... Control. Yes. He wanted to tell Lex that he had him in his power, even if he was far away. 

"What is it?" asked Bruce, peeking over his shoulder. 

Lex went taut. 

"A riding-whip. Beautiful," Bruce commented. "I didn't know you rode." He made as if to touch it. 

"I don't!" Lex exclaimed, jerking the whip out of his reach and throwing the box on the couch. 

Bruce was looking at him quizzically. 

"It's a joke," Lex said, successfully managing to control the shudders. He kept on trembling inside, but let a smile drift onto his face. He felt how strained it was. More a grimace than a smile, probably. "My father's distorted sense of humor," he said. 

_You're mine, Lex. I made you, I can destroy you. Do you think I'm enjoying myself? I do this for you. Don't trust anyone else. Luthors don't need anyone_. 

"Now I think I'll try that sweater on," Lex announced bluntly, stretching his wrists towards the other boy. "Will you help me?" 

For a moment, Bruce seemed at a loss. Then he realized what Lex was asking for. He took a tentative step forward. 

Lex held out his right hand, palm up. Bruce fumbled at the button until he managed to unfasten it. Then looked into Lex's eyes. Finding no hint of uncertainty, he went on with the other cuff. Gradually, he gained confidence. Soon Lex's shirt was fully unfastened. Bruce glanced at his face again, searching for permission or refusal. He met a blank expression. Made up his mind. Reached out for Lex's naked, pale, smooth chest. Ran his hands over it, traced patterns on his stomach and navel with his fingers, then up again. Sneaking both his hands under Lex's shirt, he slid it off his shoulders so that it hung from his forearms. Impetuously pushed him against the wall. Mouthed and licked every inch of bared skin. 

Lex stood, arms open, the back of his hands against the wall, as if he were pinned to a cross. 

_It's your fault. What's that thing between your legs, little girl? It's a mistake. A fake. You're good for nothing. All you can do is whimper and whine. But I know what you are for, mummy's darling. I know what you need_. 

Bruce stopped short. Withdrew, separating their bodies. Scrutinized his face, frowning. 

_Ants. After the eggs hatch, they lick the larvae constantly. This looks like a show of affection. A show of affection. A show of affection_. 

Lex fell on his knees, before the older boy. He reached for the waistband, unbuckled the belt, undid the button. 

_Take it, son. Good boy. This pleases me. This is what you're made for. The only thing you're good for. Show me what you can do_. 

"Lex?" 

Lex pulled down the zipper, started to push Bruce's pants and boxers down off his hips. 

_Open that rosebud mouth, girlie. Learn who's the master here_. 

"Lex, stop! What are you doing?" 

_The more he saw the less he spoke. The less he spoke the more he heard_. 

A pair of hands clasping his arms, above the elbows. Shaking him slightly. 

"Lex, I didn't ask you for this. You don't have to do it, if you don't want." 

A concern-filled voice. 

"Lex, look at me." 

Bruce knelt in front of him, face level with his. 

"God, Lex. What's come over you? Speak to me." 

Lex found himself engulfed in an awkward embrace, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He stared into space, speechless. Numb. Mind and limbs. He saw his father's scornful face, floating in the air before him, while Bruce tightened the hug, rubbing his back, repeating his name, cooing at him clumsily. As if outside his body, he heard a husky whisper leave his lips. 

"Can you love me? Please. Can you love me?" 


End file.
